Many years ago I was a child living in England, the youngest of a large family. Like most households, we had traditions and every year Christmas would be celebrated in the same way. On Christmas Eve we young ones would go to bed at the usual time and there would be the ritual of hanging a sock (I was allowed to borrow a bigger one than my own from my brother). Before Mother turned out the light we were given strict instructions not to explore the end of the bed before morning.

Of course we were determined to stay awake and see Santa come into the room with his stocking stuffers, but somehow sleep always claimed us and we never saw the old gentleman enter with his sack of toys.

The rest of the day was mapped out—breakfast, church, a light lunch, a rest on our beds, afternoon tea made exciting by a slice of Christmas cake, a period of play with our stocking toys before getting dressed in our best for Christmas dinner: turkey, plum pudding, mince tarts, etc.

It was all very exciting as we approached the climax of the day—the lighting of the Christmas tree with real candles and the distribution of presents by old Santa himself. We assembled in the living room eagerly awaiting the arrival of Father Christmas who, we were told, had been delayed by a snowstorm but was on his way.

I was distressed on this particular 25th by the absence of my oldest brother. "Why wasn't he here?" I asked mother. "Shouldn't I go and fetch him?" Somehow I was dissuaded from doing this.

Then there was a ring of the doorbell which we young ones rushed to answer. There stood old Santa, his sack on his back, calling out a hearty greeting to all. But, alas! Below the hem of his robe I saw two trouser legs and shoes that looked very like the ones my brother wore.

I didn't want to believe I was not seeing the real Father Christmas, and in a strange way I didn't want to spoil the adults' belief that I thought this was the real thing. So, I went along with the make-believe.

Children do seem to have a built-in sensitivity which adults overlook, and I kept on 'humouring' the grownups for a few more years.